


Burglar

by KayWithoutKelaAllAkela



Category: Gintama
Genre: F/M, Lemon, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Original Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayWithoutKelaAllAkela/pseuds/KayWithoutKelaAllAkela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No particular plot. Just some yummy smut starring our favourite Sadist<br/>Disclaimer : I do not own Gintama</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burglar

The crash came precisely at midnight. The rush of icy fear was enough to drag me out of my utopia, and I froze with my hands still firmly attached to my labia. I had recognised it immediately, it was a loud and distinct combination of a thud and a creak, exclusive to the back entrance, and the first thing I had noticed when I moved into this old dump. That horror-movie worthy sound effect was also, precisely the reason why I kept it locked tighter than the Fortress of Palhama. It should not move, not of it's own violation(or the wind's)  
'The lock could not be picked. I was assured that the lock cannot be picked!' I repeated this thought tocalm my speeding heart and stall the oncoming panic attack. 

Once it did, I picked up the knife I kept in my bedside drawer and slowly eased my way outside my bedroom door. Recurring images of every horror and slasher movie I hade ever watched played in my mind to the background music of my pounding heart, which I swear was louder than the thrum of a Otsuu playlist at a tasteless Otaku party.  
I stood at the top of the stairs, trying to listen past it, for a shuffled foot, a breath, one of those conveniently shaky lamps that the thief always collides into, in all those conveniently written movie scripts, and curse myself for the lack of  
decorative pieces in my house. 'I knew my utilitarianism will bite me in the ass someday'  
Okay, to be fair, I didn't know. I frankly thought it was one of the cooler factions of my personality, My no nonsense, anti-splurging policy.

'Focus or die. Your escapism isn't helping. Stop distracting your-"  
I froze. The feel of metal on my throat warranted freezing.  
I waited for him(or her, let's not give into stereotypes) to speak. Ask me for my money. Seriously, though, who would look at this dump and think there was money in it? Certainly not someone smart and talented enough to break my badass lock.  
He didn't speak. I didn't move. I took to counting sheep to keep myself from panicking and accidentally cutting myself on this alarmingly metallic and sleek object on my throat.  
5 minutes passed.  
'38 sheep, 39 sheep. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! 40...40 sheep, 41 - please don't be a serial killer/ rapist  
42 sheep Say something, damn it!'  
He replied to my mental commentary, but not with words. A thick forearm wrapped around my waist and jerked me back to a veryyy broad chest. He practically radiated strength, rubbed it in my face with his muscled, incredibly hard and damnably intimidating body.  
A tongue licked the side of my throat, all the way to my ear and then nipped my earlobe, a bit too harshly  
And then finally, finally! he spoke  
"Move back to the room."  
And just like that, just like always, I melted. Every bone in my body turned liquid, and I exhaled, just a little, as I did as he commanded.

He kicked the door close, calmly and pushed me face first into it, rather roughly. He took both my wrists and held them with one hand behind my back and put the knife away. Ofcourse he did, he didn't need it anymore. Instead, he utilised that recently spared hand to trace a path, light as a feather down the sideof my body, starting from below my breasts, down the length of my torso  
I shivered. The fear and adrenaline had made me so hyperaware, that even this barest of touch through my tank top made me shiver. The former had passed, mostly, but the latter remained  
He traced that hand under the top and slowly, achingly slowly reached my breasts. I held my breath and waited for him to touch them. My nipples literally ached for some stimulation, and as he circled his fingers around my areolas, I whimpered. I felt pathetic, and desperate and so damn needy, and obviously, he decided that moment to retract his hands.  
'Fucking sadist' I thought, but didn't dare utter out loud. If the last few months had taught me anything, it was that my....lover? had immeasurable patience and a potential for endless cruelty. So I didn't swear, or snap at him, I simply said the magic word.

"Sougo, please...."  
He smiled against my hair and rewarded my restraint by pressing his body close to me, and mine to the door by default.  
And even That, the pressure on my tits, the feel of his buttons, and something else, something long and hard and downright scrumptious, digging into my bank, felt good.  
So did the harsh tug on my hair and the feel of his lips on to my mouth, his tongue probing in, finding just the right nerves there to make me whimper for more, to make me push out my ass in invitation to that tempting length behind me. The groan I got really felt like a reward. And then he pulled me back my hair, turned me around, and pushed me onto my back. He kissed me, hard and hot, and squeezed my tits in his hands and swallowed each of my moans.  
The rush from his earlier antics hadn't left yet, and everything felt better, hotter. Which only meant that I was putty in his extremely talented hands, so overwhelmed by pleasure that I could have said yes to almost anything. 

I wrapped my legs around him and the stimulation on my pussy almost made me come. He carried me, just like that, wrapped like a particularly clingy monkey around him and sat down on the bed so I was on his lap, with my thighs spread apart. He broke the kiss to take off my top off so I was wearing only the lower half of my nightly uniform of two - my panties. He laid a trail of wet kisses and bites down my throat and chest, and when he finally sucked my nipples in his mouth, I think I actually screamed ,and didn't even have it in me to be embarrassed by my own neediness.  
I tried to undo his pants and the stimulation elicited an instant order  
"Suck it"  
My response to that elicited this shuddering... sort of groan, loud and unabashed and ragged, and the hottest thing I had ever heard since that Nine Inch Nails song. What I had done, was taken about half of his cock in my mouth in one full sweep and hollowed my cheeks out for all I was worth. I licked up his length, base to tip, and did it again with the enthusiasm of a diabetic patient who had suddenly been allowed to suck on the world's most exquisite popsicle. Which was true enough, except for the diabetic part.  
I circled the head with my tongue, and he let out a gasp, barely perceptible, so I worked on that sweetspot for a while before moving on to the soft tissue on the undeside of his cock and then took his balls, smooth and wonderful, into my mouth and be moaned, loudly. I finally got back to good old sucking, bobbed my head up and down his cock and somehow managed to keep eye contact with him the whole while. I knew how I looked, guileless, wide brown eyes exaggerated with my soft, rounded cheeks, the picture of innocence. Well, except for the piece of meat that had almost reached my throat by now. He looked down, shuddered and whimpered, actually whimpered and triumph surged through my veins and made me heady with power and control. I loved blowing him. Fellatio was the only time I had complete control. To watch this sadistic, feared bastard moan and whimper, slave to every flick of my tongue was simply... glorious. Not to mention dangerously arousing.

"I'm gonna...fuck. Stop." He almost managed to make that last word an order. Almost.  
But I conceded anyways, 'cuz he said he was gonna fuck, and I was too bloody horny to pass up on a good fucking, and so when he bent me over on the side of the bed and pushed my face into the mattress, I didn't resist one bit.  
He stripped off my panties and started to unbutton his jacket but I stopped him "Don't...ummm just keep it on"  
He raised an eyebrow but complied with my request.  
I wanted him to fuck me while he wore it. It was beautiful with its gold lapels and buttons and thick, smooth black fabric, but more than that, it was respectable. His police uniform implied such propriety, such honour, the image of the perfect gentleman, the protector of innocence and it's sharp contrast with the most ungentlemanly, devious things he was doing to me was.... Hot. So unbearably, undeniably deviant and hot.  
In one sudden thrust, he was sheathed to the hilt and the sharp sting of pain made it all better. So fucking good. He withdrew almost all  
way and did it again and again. Soon, I was moaning and clawing at the sheets, and he still didn't relent. Instead, he put his hands on my upper back and pushed me down to keep me in place, while his other hand dug into my ass with bruising force. And if it did hurt, I couldn't really tell. The endorphins overwhelmed me. The walls of my pussy went into vigorous spasms until, finally, with eyes shut tight and my body almost shaking, I came.  
But he didn't.

"Stop. Too much...stop. No, fuck." I said in a pleading tone. I was too sensitive, too aroused, suddenly it was too much. So much pleasure, that it hurt. And I could feeel him grinning as he kept on going. And soon I was coming again and again and oh, fuck  
I slumped down and he let me, which meant that he had probably climaxed as well.  
I couldn't even curse him right now, I was rendered completely mute by the parade of orgasms he had given me and frankly, what could I have said? "I hate you for making me come?"  
What good was he if he couldn't do that?  
He bent down and picked me up, kissed me lightly and tucked me intoThe bed. The moment, and the smile he flashed me, was very un-sadist like, and somehow both heart warming and discomforting. He left, and walked back in with nothing but boxers and probably a freshly cleaned dick.  
I knew I should clean up too, but I couldn't feel my legs  
"I hope you didn't paralyse me. I happen to like walking. Sometimes. "  
He simply laughed, completely unconcerned by my existential crisis, shook his head and got into bed.  
I thanked myself for the no cuddling rule because I was feeling too languid and lazy to protest if he did. Also, I was way too sensitive for contact.  
He simply went to sleep while I waitedalbeit with a smile on my face, for the post orgasmic twitches and the rythmic clenching of my pussy to pass.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of editing. It's my first post, and I have this bucketload(more like sea-load) of syllabus to do for my exams. Hope you enjoy it. Please R&R. Comments, suggestions and constructive criticism is most welcome.


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